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CRACKFIC!

Severus Snape looked down at his left forearm in disbelief. Harry Potter had defeated the Dark Lord, You-Know-Who, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named - dammit he was a big boy, he could say it - Voldemort! So, why was the Dark Mark still there? Sure, there’d been a little burning sensation, but it looked exactly the same. Apart from a little mark on the skull’s forehead… a little mark in the shape of a… a lightening bolt? And… he didn’t even want to really think it, but the damn mark was pink!

“Potter!” he roared, pushing his way through the throngs of women surrounding the Boy-Who-Lived, Chosen One, Golden Boy, Bane-Of-His-Miserable-Life, Harry Bloody Potter. The boy - man? - in question had the gall to look relieved at his Potions Master appearing.

“Oh my hero!” Potter crooned in an overly falsetto tone. “Now look here girls, this is my boyfriend, and he won’t like it if you keep touching my bum!” He leaned into Sybyl Trelawney, giggling. “He’s awfully good at making people scream, you know!”

Severus would have been inordinately pleased with that statement, had it not been said in a very suggestive tone with an array of eyebrow waggling. He growled darkly, and grabbed a hold of Potter’s arm.

“I’ll see you later girls!” Potter called over his shoulder. “I think I’m going down to the dungeons to get punished!” From the scowl on the Weasley girl’s face, she wanted to punish Potter too, and not in the lewd manner Potter obviously envisioned. As soon as Severus had pulled Potter away from prying eyes, he thrust his arm into the boy’s face.

“What have you done, Potter?” He asked darkly, expecting the boy to sober up, but was instead met with a high pitched squeal.

“Oooh, it worked! I didn’t think it would work!” The boy babbled nonsensically. “You see the lightening bolt, that shows that you’re my followers now!”

“Your what? Why is it pink?” The last word was whispered in an undertone - Severus would never be able to live down the drama if it got out that he had ever even heard of the colour pink, let alone had a tattoo in that colour.

“Well, I just thought that it was a nicer colour than that horrible black… and it wouldn’t go with our new uniform very well if it was black!” Potter giggled again. Severus sighed.

“New uniform?” This could not be good. Severus had liked the old uniform. Black on black, silver masks. It was tasteful in a way that something of a lurid pink just couldn’t ever be.

“Ooh, I can’t tell just you. Let me have your arm, I’ll call the others here!” The boy was surprisingly strong, pulling Severus’s arm to him and pressing his wand into the skin. Instead of a burning pain, Severus could hear music. There was a mouth, on the skull, and it was… Dear Merlin… It was singing!

Lollipop, lollipop, oh, lolli lolli lolli, lollipop!” It sang out. And then it repeated.

“Isn’t it just the cutest song?” Potter giggled. “It’s by the Chordettes.” His voice dropped to a stage whisper. “They’re a Muggle band.” Thankfully, the Death Eaters began to apparate in then, all of them wide eyed and hopeful. Until, that is, they saw the dancing Boy-Wonder.

“Potter?” Came the scathing tones of Lucius Malfoy. Ah, thought Severus to himself, sanity at last! “This is the most brilliant song I have ever heard! It’s so catchy, and rhythmic!” And then, before Severus’s eyes, Lucius Malfoy began to gyrate.

“Oh Lucius!” Potter squealed. “I didn’t know you had it in you!”

“Please, call me Lucy,” Lucius replied with a sugary-sweet smile. “All my friends do!”

“I thought we were friends?” Severus interrupted in an affronted tone. “You never asked me to call you Lucy!”

“We’re all friends here!” Potter stopped Lucius’ retort with his decidedly feminine hand clapping. “But we have to stop the dancing, I have some very important news for you all!” With a wave of Potter’s wand, the dreaded music stopped playing from Severus’s arm, and all of the Death Eaters lined up, glum faced at their impromptu disco having been cut short.

“Potter!” Severus snapped as the boy drifted off into a Lovegood-like daze.

“Yes, yes, Sevvie, darling, I’m starting now.” Potter replied. Severus could feel his teeth grinding together. “I am your new Master!” The full effect of that proud statement was ruined by the high pitched giggle he gave immediately following. “But can you all just call me Harry instead? Sevvie is the real Master,” he winked at the assembled Death Eaters. “he likes to be a bit kinky in bed!” Severus scowled, and his hand twitched for his wand. “But, anyhow, I thought you should know that we’re having a few changes round here.

“Instead of being an anarchist political movement, we’re going to be a dance troupe.” Whoops were heard, the loudest from Lucius and his son. “So we’re going to call ourselves the Death Dancers! Our new uniform will be our stage costume, and I expect you to wear them to our every meeting!” With a single wave of Potter’s wand, the entire groups’ robes were transfigured. Severus would have marvelled at the power, if he weren’t so upset that he was now wearing a dress.

A pink dress, to be precise. It was, quite frankly, the sort of dress that Severus would imagine was worn by, delicately put, ladies-of-the-night. It was very short, and had a slit almost to his hip, exposing his hairy legs and making Severus really, really, wish that he had worn underwear that morning. It was a very good thing that Severus wasn’t a woman though, as the neckline of the dress - which was, he noted, emphasized by sparkly rhinestones, sequins and glitter - plunged almost to his belly-button, exposing his hairy chest. And the silver mask had been moved to his head, and changed into a tiara. A golden one, with Potter’s mark on the front of it.

“Oooh, Harry, it’s so pretty!” Lucius squealed happily as he twirled in circles. Severus noted with a wince and a shudder that he wasn’t the only one who had foregone underwear that day.

“Can we have a free-dance now?” Draco asked enthusiastically. Potter - the prat - agreed.

Thankfully, within three minutes of the disco ball going up, and the music coming on - Barbie Girl by Aqua, Draco informed him sotto voce - one of Goyle’s arms swung up and hit him in the face, knocking him unconscious.

When Severus woke, he was in the Hospital Wing, which looked completely normal, and Minerva McGonagall sat next to his bed, reading a book. He sighed in relief as he looked down - no pink dress, thank Merlin.

“Severus, dear, are you alright?” Minerva looked genuinely concerned for him. “You gave us all ever such a scare.”

“I had the most horrific dream,” Severus admitted. “Potter had made the Death Eaters into a dance troupe called the Death Dancers, and the Dark Mark was pink, and we were all wearing these dresses…” He stopped at Minerva’s nervous expression.

“Ah, Severus, about that…” She pulled at the collar of her robes uncomfortably. “That wasn’t a dream. It seems to be a side effect of defeating a Dark Lord.”

“What? I… I don’t understand.” Severus was aware that his voice sounded pitiful, and reedy, and he was sure he looked completely confused, but  he was pitiful and he was very, very confused.

“Severus, dear, you don’t think that Albus defeated Grindelwald in lavender robes, do you? Before he defeated Grindelwald he was as straight as an arrow!”

“But, I didn’t see him with anyone! And Potter wants me!” Severus spluttered inelegantly. “He can’t!”

“It wasn’t Aberforth who had the thing for the goat, Severus.” Minerva whispered conspiratorally, nodding glumly and patting his shoulder as Severus assimilated the information.

“But-!”

“Sevvie!” Came Potter’s squeal as he entered the hospital wing. “You’re alive! Oh how I’ve missed you!” As Potter pressed a sloppy kiss to his forehead, and babbled on endlessly, Severus couldn’t help but wonder if life would have really been that bad had the Dark Lord won. Perhaps a Time Turner…

"Severus's Worst Day", posted on August 8, 2011 at 1:50 pm
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